


A Modern Day Courtship

by melissa13



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissa13/pseuds/melissa13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little drabbles of Emma and Killian navigating through 21st century dating.</p><p>Chapter 11: The Do Over, spoilers for 6x13, a fix-it drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the key

**the key**

“So, don’t, like, make a big deal out of this or anything, but I have something for you,” Emma said one day to Killian as they were getting a bite to eat at Granny’s.

“It’s not another one of those cellyfone things, is it?” he asked, eyeing her warily.

“No, not after what you did with the last one,” she said dryly. Who knew texting would be so hard with a hook for a hand? “No, you’ll actually know how to use this.”

Emma reached into her bag, found what she was looking for, and slowly slid it across the table, watching his reaction intently. He stared at the object for a long moment, cocking his head to the side, before looking back at her, the cutest confused expression on his face, and _damn it_ , she’d really been hoping she wouldn’t have to explain this one to him.

“It’s a key,” he stated with no small amount of uncertainty. His brow was furrowed adorably and Emma had to restrain herself from reaching across the booth and smooth it out. “I’m sorry, darling, I fail to see the significance.”

“It’s not just any key,” Emma stressed, trying to keep her voice as low as possible. If the town gossips, namely Ruby, got word of this, she’d never hear the end of it. “It’s a key to my apartment.”

Silence. He stared blankly at her and it felt like she was speaking a different language, which, well, maybe she was. “I see,” he said finally, but it was clear that he didn’t.

And even though she’d warned him not to make a big deal out of it, she allowed herself to feel a little disappointed. She’d wanted some sort of reaction because, hello, this was _major_! She had never given a guy the key to her apartment before, had never wanted to let them into her life beyond casual dating and one night stands. A key to her apartment was a _huge_ deal for someone like her who’d spent the better part of her adult life alone, shutting people out.

She and Killian had been dating for the better part of a year now, though, and she’d never imagined she could possibly be this happy. Emma couldn’t explain it, but the two of them just fit together perfectly in every way. They challenged each other, supported one another, and she’d never felt so loved or cherished in her whole life. Once Mary Margaret and David had moved into their own place, Killian had become a frequent guest at the loft, staying over more nights than not; he even had his own drawer in her room, which had been a whole nother conversation. Giving him a key of his own had seemed like the next logical step.

“I’ve upset you,” he said, worry lines creasing his forehead. “This is another one of those modern courtship rituals that I don’t understand, yes? Like the toothbrush thing?”

An amused snort escaped her. “Kind of,” Emma told him. She took a deep breath. “In terms of 21st century dating, giving someone a key to your place is, well, huge. It’s more symbolic than anything, I guess. It says: I love you, I trust you, I want to take our relationship to the next level. I’ve, well, I’ve never given anyone the key to my apartment,” she added, suddenly feeling self conscious.

“Not even Baelfire?” he asked quietly, watching her intently in that way that always made her feel like he could see right through her.

Emma just shook her head. She didn’t want to explain that she in Neal had spent more time living in their car than in an actual apartment.

Killian’s eyebrows went up to his hairline as he processed that, and his eyes were wide with awe as he looked from her to the key again, and yes, thank you, that was the reaction she had been looking for.

“And now you’ve chosen me to be the recipient,” he said carefully, as if she was going to take it back.

“Well, my other boyfriend was out of town this week so…”

“We’re having a moment here, Swan, don’t ruin it,” Killian chastised half-heartedly, his blossoming smile nearly blinding her. He sobered up for a moment, sliding his hand across the table to grasp hers. “I’m honored, love, truly I am. Thank you.”

“It’s just a key,” Emma said with an anxious shrug, suddenly trying to play it cool.

Killian smiled again. “Of course it is,” he conceded, and she loved that he knew so well when to push her and when to hold back.

He really was such a good sport about everything. “It certainly doesn’t mean I actually like you or anything,” she quipped, playfully stealing some whip cream off the top of her hot chocolate and popping it in her mouth.

“Oh, I would never dare to presume such a thing, love.”

She laughed at that, shaking her head at him fondly and entwining their fingers together.

“I wish I had something to give you in return, Emma,” Killian said, drawing their hands up to press a kiss to the back of her palm. “But seeing as you’ve already stolen the key to my heart, I’ll call it even.”

When he said things like that, she couldn’t keep her heart from fluttering or the schoolgirl blush from rising to her cheeks.

“You are so corny. Do you even hear yourself?”

“You love it.”

He was right, of course. She did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to do a fun little series of drabbles that highlighted some modern day courtship rituals that Killian would probably be confused about. I have lots of ideas so far, about 10, but I'm definitely open for more. If you have something you'd like to see, let me know! :)


	2. the tie on the door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Hook face a setback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These one shots won't be in chronological order. As such, this one is set a lot earlier than the first one. Enjoy! :)

**the tie on the door**

“I am going to do absolutely  _unspeakable_ things to you, darling.”

His husky growl behind her made her halt her climb up the stairs and she turned around to face him.

“You’re all talk and no action,” she quipped, smiling coyly.

“Ooo, you shall pay dearly for that, Swan,” he said with a predatory grin.

She darted away when he tried to grab her, quickly climbing the last couple of steps, him hot on her heels.

She had been suffering through another boring day at the station when Hook had sauntered in. David had left to patrol only minutes earlier and Hook had managed to convince her to head over to the loft for some afternoon delight; or as he had put it, a midday tryst. She hadn’t needed much convincing, not when he’d walked in looking like some sort of pirate sex god, all black leather and windswept hair that was just begging for fingers to be run through it. Her fingers to be exact.

Their relationship was still new at this point. Being with him was exciting and sometimes she felt like they were two horny teenagers the way they’d been going at it. She’d never had a lover like Hook before. He was attentive and beyond passionate, overwhelming every one of her senses. He knew exactly how to drive her crazy with just a single touch or caress and seemed to anticipate her every need. To say that the sex was mind blowing was probably a vast understatement.

Hook caught her around the waist only a few feet away from her door. He flipped her around and pressed her back into the wall outside of her apartment, his arousal evident as he closed the distance between their bodies.

“You’re a bloody temptress, you are,” he whispered heatedly in her ear. Giving it a quick nibble, he then moved down her neck, lavishing open mouthed kisses here and there while his hand occupied itself underneath her shirt. “Maybe I’ll take you right here in the corridor so your neighbors can hear your moans of pleasure.”

“Hook,” she gasped, eyes rolling into the back of her head as he sucked on her pulse point. She wasn’t sure if it was an encouragement or a warning, but he seemed to understand.

“Inside then,” he agreed, stopping his assault on her neck. His fingers lingered on her back though, dancing down her spine causing her to shiver. “A horizontal surface is preferable for what I have in mind. I’m not picky; any one will suffice.”

“Good thing the loft has several,” Emma breathed, eagerly grabbing her keys out of her jacket pocket. He withdrew, allowing her to move to the door. When she went to put the key into the lock, however, she noticed something was hanging from the door knob. She slowly pulled it off the door, noting the silky texture with growing horror. It was, she determined, a neck tie.

_“So maybe next time you could put a tie on the door or send a text!”_

The conversation from more than a year ago echoed in her mind and realization surged through her like a bucket of cold water.

“Oh my god,” she said, throwing the tie back on the door knob like it’d burned her. Ew, ew, ew ew, EW!

“Swan?” Hook asked, looking from her to the door in confusion. “Why aren’t we going in?”

“David and Mary Margaret, my parents, they’re inside,” she stuttered out, completely mortified. “The tie,” she said, pointing at it accusingly. “That’s what it means.”

“I fail to see the problem, love,” he said, attempting to wrap his arms around her waist. “We exchange a few pleasantries and then we retire up to your bedchamber.”

Emma shook her head, breaking away from him and his grabby hands. “ _No_ , you don’t understand,” she moaned. “My parents are inside, _in bed_. That’s what the tie signifies.” She couldn’t believe she was having to explain this to him right now.

“What kind of ludicrous ritual is this?” he asked, eyeing the tie with fascination.

“It’s like roommate etiquette,” Emma tried to explain, pacing the floor now. “Ugh, patrol my ass! David is getting all of the late shifts for at least _two weeks_ because of this!”

“Are you certain they’re in there?” he asked, leaning in towards the door. Almost immediately after he said it, a breathy moan sounded from within. Hook chuckled while Emma whimpered. “Atta boy, Dave,” the former pirate said proudly.

“This isn’t funny!” Emma hissed at him. “This, this is _mortifying_.”

She shivered in a way that was completely different than how she had only minutes earlier and took off down the hallway.

“Wait, what about our little afternoon rendezvous?” Hook persisted, dogging her footsteps. “Come now, love, this is but a minor setback.”

“Sorry, but I am _so_ not in the mood anymore,” Emma said, trudging back down the stairs.

“I could put you _back_ in the mood…”

“Not gonna happen, buddy.”


	3. the b word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook finds the word 'boyfriend' rather...lacking.

**the b word**

“So, you and Captain Hook, huh?”

Emma dragged her feet in the gravel, effectively stopping her swing. “What?” she asked, hoping she’d heard her son wrong.

“Give me a little credit; I may be 12, but I’m not stupid,” Henry said, pumping his legs back and forth to swing higher. “You two have been spending an awful lot of time together since we got back to Storybrooke. Is he your boyfriend?”

“Umm…” Emma stalled, chewing on her lip as she tried to decide what to say. She and Neal had sat him down only about a month earlier, explaining that while they loved him and would always love each other, they weren’t in love and wouldn’t be getting back together. Henry had borne his disappointment better than she’d expected, but Emma had no idea what he would think about her having another man in her life. “Would you be...okay with that?” she asked, absentmindedly shuffling her feet in the gravel underneath her swing.

“Sure,” Henry said nonchalantly. He brightened up considerably after a moment. “Hey, do you think he’d teach me how to sail?”

A little part of her heart melted at his hopeful question. “I’m sure he’d love to,” she told him. Another thought popped into her mind. “I’d cool it with the b-word in front of him, though.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, he probably wouldn’t get it,” Emma shrugged. Did they even have the word ‘boyfriend’ in the Enchanted Forest?

“Well, there he is,” Henry said suddenly. “Let’s ask him.”

Emma looked around and, sure enough, Hook was winding his way through the park towards them, quite the sight in his usual black leather. Henry gave her a innocent smile that was the spitting image of Neal, and if she didn’t know any better, she would have thought he’d planned this.

“Uh, Henry—”

“Morning, Captain,” her son greeted, still swinging back and forth enthusiastically.

“Morning, lad,” Hook said, coming to rest up against the side of the swing set. His eyes flitted over to hers, and the smoldering look her gave her instantly reminded her of their heated kiss goodbye outside of her apartment the night before. “Swan.”

“Hook.”

Henry’s eyes darted between them for a moment before settling on Hook. “So, Captain,” he said, diving right in. “Would you call yourself my mom’s boyfriend?”

Emma clenched her teeth together to keep herself silent. He’d definitely learned his lack of tact from Regina, that was for sure. She chanced a look at Hook. A perplexed expression had crossed his face and he raised an eyebrow at her before addressing Henry.

“Pardon me, lad,” he started hesitantly. “Not quite sure what you mean. ‘Boyfriend?’”

“You know, you two are boyfriend and girlfriend,” Henry tried to explain. “It means you’re dating each other. In a relationship.”

Hook opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something Emma probably wouldn’t like, so she cut him off. “Henry, I think I hear David calling us,” she said, leaping up from her swing.

Henry dragged his feet in the gravel, bringing his swing to a halt. He cocked his head, listening. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Yeah, well, you’re 12, remember?” Emma said, ushering him up. “Your ears are still developing. Now, say goodbye to Captain Jones. I’ll be along in a sec.”

“Bye, Captain,” Henry said glumly, trudging away.

“Bye, Henry,” Hook called after him, keeping his eyes on Emma, amusement evident in his smile. “Been talking about me with your boy, Swan? All good things, I hope.”

“He was the one who brought you up, not me,” Emma told him, keeping an eye on her son as he waited for her just outside the park gate. “I gotta run. I’ll see you later?”

Hook nodded, and she turned to follow the path that Henry had taken, glad that he wasn’t bothering her about the ‘boyfriend’ thing.

“And Emma—” _Damn it._ “—We’ll continuing this interesting conversation later, of that you can be sure.”

She threw him a dirty look over her shoulder, which only made his grin grow wider.

* * *

 

Later turned out not to be until the next day. She was sitting in her office in the Sheriff's Station trying to catch up on paperwork when he strolled in.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” Hook greeted, stepping into her office and giving her a heart stopping smile.

“Hi,” she said, unable to keep her own smile from forming.

He looked to and fro around the station and, not seeing anyone else, beckoned her to him. “Come, Swan, I’ve not been able to give you a proper kiss in days,” he said, giving her a heated look. “It’s enough to drive a man mad.”

Emma rolled her eyes at his dramatics, but was secretly pleased by his words. She didn’t go to him right away, holding up a finger signifying that she needed a minute, relishing in his impatience as he tapped on his belt buckle and watched her write the last sentence of her theft report. When she thought he’d waited long enough, she pushed back from her desk and made her way over to him. As soon as she was within his reach, Hook quickly drew her to him.

“About bloody time,” he practically growled before crashing his lips down to hers.

She grasped the lapels of his coat, trying to keep up with him as he moved his lips and tongue eagerly against hers. She melted into his embrace, surrendering herself over to his touch. His hand fisted into her hair, fingers entangled within the strands, while his hook pressed against the small of her back, urging their bodies closer together. She dragged her teeth along his bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth and sucking on it relentlessly until he groaned, a deep guttural sound that made warmth pool in her belly. She broke away from him, sure that if they kept at it, he would have no qualms about taking her on her own desk.

“David could be back from lunch any minute,” she said breathlessly, smoothing her hands down the front of his coat. “I really don’t think he’d enjoy the sight of me making out with my—” She stopped mid sentence, glancing up at him wide-eyed to gauge whether or not he’d noticed her almost slip-up.

His delighted grin told her that he had. “You were going to say boyfriend, weren’t you?”

“No.”

Hook chuckled, stepping away from her to lean against wall. “I’ve been looking into this word, and my sources—”

“Excuse me, sources?” she interrupted. “Who are your sources exactly?”

He wavered for a moment before saying, “You know, love, perhaps the less you know, the better.”

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation, but chose not to pursue that line of questioning.

“Anyway, although I’m glad you’re finally acknowledging our courtship, even if it’s just to your son,” he said, and she looked up at that, “I’m not sure how I feel about this term ‘boyfriend.’ Since I am neither a boy nor simply your friend, I find it rather...lacking.”

“Oh, really?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I suppose you have suggestions as to what I should call you instead?”

“It just so happens that I’ve taken the liberty of compiling a list,” Hook replied, procuring a piece of parchment from the inner pocket of his jacket.

“A list.”

“Indeed, a list,” he repeated. “These are terms I feel are more appropriate in regards to my relationship to you. Now, how do you feel about, suitor?”

“No.”

“Beau.”

“ _Hell_ no.”

“Paramour.”

“Seriously?”

“Lover?” His accompanying suggestive eye wiggle did nothing to persuade her.

Emma shook her head.

“My Captain and/or The Captain.”

“Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous,” she scoffed, grabbing the parchment from his hands and crumpling it up. “I’ve got one. How about _pain in the ass_?”

“I don’t know, love. Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.”

She emitted a frustrated noise. “Look, I know whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing is stupid and juvenile, and you’re right that is doesn’t quite capture what our relationship is,” Emma said. “We’re not in the Enchanted Forest anymore, though. All those words you just said haven't been used in centuries, so we’re going to have to compromise.” She paused, trying to come up with something that would satisfy them both. “What about something simple, like, partner?”

He stroked his chin contemplatively. “Hmmm, partner,” he considered. A moment later he smiled. “I could make do with that. It implies that we’re a team. And you know what I’ve said since the beginning…”

“That we make quite the team,” Emma finished for him, unable to keep the soft smile off her face.

“Aye, that we do,” Hook agreed, moving closer and wrapping his arms around her once again.

She pressed her cheek against his chest, reveling in the feeling of being held by him. He had this uncanny ability to make her feel safe and warm and loved, and maybe pre-Storybrooke Emma would have been terrified of that and headed straight for the hills, but he had displayed the depth of his love for her time and time again and she was no longer afraid of trusting him with her heart. Truthfully, she didn’t care what she called him as long as she could call him ‘mine.’

“Just a heads up though, Henry’s probably still going to call you my boyfriend.”

“Perhaps if I share my list with him—”

“Don’t you dare.”

"As you wish."


	4. the doghouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma puts Killian in the doghouse.

**the doghouse**

“A cup of coffee, if you’d please, love.”

Killian rubbed his eyes tiredly as he slumped onto a stool at the counter of Granny’s, struggling and failing to contain his yawn, which only served to make him wince at the pain in his chin.

“Make that two, Ruby,” a voice said behind him, and Killian turned at the waist to see David sliding into the seat next to him, looking irritatingly awake and chipper. “You look terrible, Jones. Rough night?”

Killian rubbed his sore jaw, mustering up the coolest glare he could to direct at the prince. “Morning to you, too, mate,” he bit out. “I suppose you’ve heard then?”

David grinned. “Who hasn’t?” he said, nodding his thanks to Ruby as she set two steaming cups of coffee in front of them.

Killian decided to test David’s theory. “Lass,” he said nonchalantly, stopping the she-wolf turned serving girl from walking away. “You haven’t by any chance heard about—”

Ruby cut him off with a snort. “Oh yeah,” she said. “It’s all over town.”

“How is that possible?” Killian asked incredulously. “This only just occured last night!”

Ruby shrugged. “Small town,” she offered him. “The dwarves were there, and we all know how much they love to gossip.”

She flounced off, long, raven hair streaming behind her, leaving Killian to hang his head in misery. David patted him on the back encouragingly, though Killian rather thought he was delighting in his despair.

A tinkling of bells caught their attention and they both turned to the diner’s front door just as Emma strolled in, and maybe it was only because he knew what to look for that he saw the dark bags under her eyes and the tense set of her jaw. Their eyes met immediately across the room, and she stalled fleetingly before continuing her path to the counter.

“One hot chocolate with cinnamon, please, Ruby,” she said, keeping her gaze firmly ahead of her. “To go.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” David greeted, leaning over to kiss his daughter’s temple.

“Morning,” she replied shortly, managing a slight smile for him.

Killian cleared his throat, pasting on his most charming and apologetic smile. “Morning, love,” he said, casting a hopeful look past David to Emma. “You’re looking particularly beautiful this morning, my darl—”

“Thanks, Ruby,” Emma said, ignoring him and handing her some money. “Keep the change.”

Without another word to either of them, Emma grabbed her hot chocolate and took off. David let out a low whistle as the door slammed shut after her, and all Killian could do was gape at the back of her golden head as she disappeared from sight.

Well, that’s not all he could do. Killian got to his feet, ignoring the dull ache in his head, and gestured to his coffee.

“Dave, can you—?”

David waved him off. “Go, I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, mate.”

He was out the door and following swiftly after Emma in seconds. Gods, he knew she’d be right royally ticked off. She’d shut the door to her apartment pretty harshly in his face the night before, and although he could have probably broken in, he wouldn’t have dared to. No, she’d made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t welcome in her apartment, let alone her bed, that night, so he’d been forced to spend the night on the Jolly Roger for the first time in months. He’d tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep without his Swan in his arms, not to mention the pounding in his head. The long hour before dawn had been spent staring up at the ceiling of his cabin, mentally berating himself for being the biggest sodding idiot in all the realm. He’d realized then that fixing this would be difficult, but he hadn’t been prepared for how difficult.

He turned the corner, following what he knew was Emma’s normal route to the station, and spied her just ahead, charging down the street. He sprinted ahead, not caring a whit for the townespeope who looked at him anxiously, and called out her name when he got close enough.

“Swan!”

Her whole body tensed and she paused briefly before striding forward, even more determinedly than before. He shook his head and continued after her until he’d finally caught up, maneuvering until he was in front of her, staying her path.

“Emma,” he tried, and she attempted to dart around him. Killian, truly at the end of his rope, had no choice but to grab her wrist to keep her from leaving him.

The glare she sent him nearly tore his heart in two. She’d not looked at him like that, with such disdain and anger in her eyes, in quite a long time, and he’d hoped to never see that look directed at him ever again.

“Let go,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

He switched his grip so that he was holding her hand rather than her wrist. He gripped it like a lifeline, imploring her with his eyes to hear him out.

“Please, love,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry. Just talk to me. Let me explain.”

She stared at him hard with narrowed eyes, but Killian could see the indecision swirling in their depths. Finally, she sighed, looking away from him and out across the town.

“You have exactly two minutes.”

He mustered up a small, hopeful smile and released her hand. She looked back at him expectantly and he ran his fingers through his hair anxiously as he tried to determine what to say, how to account for his behavior. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off almost immediately.

“No, you know what, I changed my mind,” Emma said fiercely, eyes flashing. “I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna listen.—Do you have _any idea_ how embarrassing it is as the sheriff of this town to be called to break up a bar fight involving your own _boyfriend_?”

_Partner_ , Killian thought idly, still bristling at that word, but now was not the time. He kept his eyes on hers, though all he wanted to do was hang his head in shame.

“I don’t know what the hell you and Robin were thinking last night,” Emma snapped. “What, were you two just looking for a good fight? Did those guys look at you two funny or something? One of them insult the Jolly Roger? Because I literally can’t think of a single plausible excuse for you to lay your hands on anyone. You’re lucky they decided not to press charges.”

Killian remained silent. He couldn’t tell her why he’d gotten in the fight and that was part of the problem. But the men’s words had been ringing in his ears all morning. To insult him was one thing, he could handle that easy. Insult his love, however, his Swan who had so much taken from her and so much weight placed on his shoulders, that was something else entirely. Something he wouldn’t and couldn’t stand for. And maybe he’d had a little too much to drink, but the sound of the imbecile who’d slandered his Swan’s nose breaking had been music to his ears.

“I’m sorry, love,” he finally said. “Believe me when I say that I had my reasons. I’m not proud of what happened, but you know that I would never want to do anything to jeopardize your position as sheriff.”

“You had your reasons,” Emma echoed. She studied him with those piercing green eyes of hers and Killian couldn’t help it, he was forced to look away. Emma laughed, a harsh and hollow sound to his ears. “And you don’t want to tell me them. Perfect.”

“Emma—”

“No, it’s fine,” she insisted, her lips twisting into a bitter smile that was like a dagger to his heart. “You know, I wish I could say I saw something like this coming, but I didn’t. I’d naively thought that you had changed.”

“I have, _you know I have_ ,” Killian said desperately, and he sought her hand again, but she moved out of his reach, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“ _Don’t_ ,” she warned. She closed her eyes tightly, taking a calming breath, and when she opened them she looked so tired and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and beg her forgiveness. “Just, I need some time. Time to figure things out.”

“Figure things out?” Killian repeated uneasily. He felt all the blood drain out of his face. What did that mean?

Emma swallowed and looked away. “I have to go to work,” she said, and then just like that she was walking away from him, not looking back. He felt the dagger in his heart twist cruelly.

Killian heard footsteps come up behind him and stop at his side, and without even looking, he knew it was David. The Prince watched his daughter’s retreating form with an inscrutable expression before turning to Killian and clapping his hand encouragingly on his shoulder.

“She’ll come around,” he said confidently.

Killian shook his head, looking down at his boots. “You didn’t hear her,” he told him.

“But I know my daughter,” David countered. “She’s angry and embarrassed , and rightfully so, but she loves you; she won’t keep you in the doghouse for very long.”

“The doghouse?” Killian asked with only mild interest. He peered up again to see that Emma had disappeared around the corner, taking all hopes of reconciliation with her.

“Uh, it’s an expression from this land,” David tried to explain. “It means you’re out of her favor, you’re on the outs for the moment.”

“I see,” Killian said, though he wasn’t quite sure where canines came in. “And how do I get out of this doghouse, so to speak?”

“Thankfully, this land has many ideas,” David said. “Come, Emma won’t expect me for another half hour. That gives us time enough to go to the flower shop.”

“Not that I mind, mate, but why are you helping me?” Killian asked, following after the man. He hadn’t expected Dave to side with him over his own daughter.

“You’re Emma’s true love.” Charming shrugged, as if it were as simple as that, and maybe for him it was. “Even if you weren’t, in the short time I’ve been a part of her life, I’ve never seen Emma as happy as when she’s with you. I would do anything to preserve that happiness, and if that means helping you get back on her good side, so be it.”

“Thank you,” Killian said, meeting his gaze sincerely. “I really mean it, mate, thanks.”

David waved his words away and began plotting how to get Killian back in Emma’s good graces. As they walked Killian could feel his confidence growing. He would do his very best to convince Emma that he was sorry even if he had to beg on his hands and knees for her forgiveness. He would give her a couple days to cool off, and then he was going to lay it on his Swan so thick that she would have no choice but to accept his apology. After all, he had come too far and been through too much with her to give up at the first sign of strife in their relationship.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the angst!! The next chapter will be the make-up :)


	5. the make up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Killian convince Emma to forgive him after their fight? Set after The Doghouse.

**the make up**

"Another delivery for you, Sheriff."

Something between a groan and a growl escaped Emma's mouth, and she reluctantly looked up at Mr. French who held a huge bouquet of daisies in his hands. "Put it with the others, I guess," she sighed, gesturing to the dozens of vases that had invaded her office over the course of the day. "I don't know how he put you up to this, Mr. French."

"When a man pays you in gold coins as big as your palm," the florist said, squeezing the daisies in between some tiger lilies and tulips, "You tend to do as he asks."

"Right," Emma said dryly. "Well, if that's all..."

"It is for now," he said, giving her a look that pointedly meant he'd be back.

This was getting out of hand.

"Wow, he's really laying it on thick, isn't he?" Mary Margaret said when she walked into her office near the end of Emma's shift. Mr. French had returned no less than seven times and each time with a bouquet that was bigger than the last. Her mother leaned closer to the latest delivery, a bouquet of red roses the florist had set on her desk, and inhaled their scent, humming appreciatively. "You know, David probably helped him come up with this. He was big into apology flowers when he knew he'd done something wrong."

"Glad to know their bromance hasn't taken a hit."

Mary Margaret gave her a half-amused, half-scolding look, before turning her attention back to the flowers. Her forehead crinkled in confusion as she scanned each arrangement. "Emma, none of these cards have been opened."

"That's 'cause, I haven't read any of them," she answered matter-a-factly, busying herself with organizing her paperwork.

"Emma…" Her tone was definitely scolding now, and it looked for a second like she was going to launch into lecture mode, but surprisingly she held her tongue.

"I'm not just going to forget what happened because he went out and bought half the flower shop," she seethed, and Mary Margaret nodded politely. Emma narrowed her eyes at her, feeling her puffed up anger seep out of her. "What, no words of motherly wisdom?" she finally asked.

"Very funny."

"No, I'm actually being serious," Emma said haltingly, looking down at her desk to avoid Mary Margaret's eyes. "Do you...think I'm overreacting about this thing with Killian?"

Mary Margaret pursed her lips slightly, and took the seat across from her. "You want the truth?" she asked. Emma nodded, looking up, and she wiggled her head from side to side in indecisive contemplation. "Maybe just like a teensy bit?"

Emma groaned pathetically, head falling down onto her desk. It had been about a day and a half since she'd told Killian she needed time to figure things out, and she was no closer to doing so than she'd been then. She'd just been so angry and disappointed and embarrassed. The man was maddening, and she could never do halfway with her emotions when it came to him. Everything she felt seemed to be magnified tenfold when he was around, mostly in a good way, but her irritation the other night had turned into full blown fury quickly.

Her mother patted her head sympathetically. "I just think you're being a little hard on him," she said tentatively. "He's been a model citizen since settling down in Storybrooke. One little fight shouldn't change that."

Emma peeked up at her with a shrewd look. "When did you become Killian's champion?"

"Since I saw how good he is for you," Mary Margaret said, a soft smile gracing her face. "You smile more, you laugh more. He makes you happy, and that's all I've ever wanted for you, Emma."

Her throat grew tight at her mother's words, but she managed a small smile. "He does make me happy," she admitted, unconsciously gripping the anchor pendant he'd given her that she wore around her neck. "I love him. And he's never given me a reason to doubt him since we've been together. It's just, when I asked him what the fight was about, he wouldn't tell me."

"He had to have had a good reason," Mary Margaret reassured her. "He loves you too much to throw it all away over something that wasn't." Her mother put her hand over Emma's on top of her desk. "I'm not saying let him completely off the hook," she said, grinning at her little pun, making Emma roll her eyes, "But don't make a hasty decision over what was probably a mistake."

Mary Margaret left soon after that, saying she had to pick up Emma's little brother from daycare. Before she left, however, she plucked the little white envelope from the roses on Emma's desk and handed it to her, urging her to read at least one of the cards before deciding what she was going to do. Emma stared down at the envelope in her hand, feeling her resolve to stay angry beginning to cave. She slid a finger hesitantly underneath the seal, breaking it, and took out the card inside.

 

> _I'm sorry._
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> _Please come to the Jolly Roger tonight. 7 o'clock._
> 
> _~K_

A quick peek at the envelopes around her proved to be much of the same. He was sorry. He loved her (more than he loved anything in all the realms, one card proclaimed) along with a plea for her to come to his ship that evening. A quick glance at the clock told her there was about an hour and a half until 7.

Emma slumped down into her chair, leaning her cheek into her fist, staring down at the little white cards scattered on top of her desk. She couldn't deny that she'd been miserable since their fight, had spent much of the previous night moping around the loft in sweatpants, eating straight from a tub of ice cream, and watching Law and Order reruns. She'd alternated between being furious and being hurt before deciding that being furious was easier. So, did she go home to an empty apartment and wallow in her embarrassment and angry again, perhaps with a glass (or a bottle, more likely) of wine? Or did she go and hear him out?

Emma turned both options over in her mind, her eyes being drawn to one of the white cards. She smoothed the tips of her fingers over his surprisingly elegant penmanship. _I'm sorry. I love you._

She pursed her lips for a moment before making a split second decision, her hand reaching for the phone on her desk, dialing a number she knew by heart.

"Hey, Regina, it's Emma...No, I didn't call to talk to Henry, actually. Is Robin around?"

* * *

The sun was setting by the time she arrived at the bottom of the Jolly Roger's gangplank, the sky over Storybrooke awash in colors. She had arrived purposefully late, maybe about ten minutes, and as she crept up the ramp, she couldn't stop herself from nervously fidgeting with her hair. Emma paused at the top of the gangplank, her eyes widening as she took in the scene on the deck below. There were candles everywhere, big and small, their flames flickering in the light, spring breeze. A red and white checkered blanket lay on the lower deck along with a picnic basket, two wine glasses, and two candles. And between those two candles, another dozen red roses. Her mouth fell open as she surveyed the little setup, and, she would never admit it later, but there may have been a tear or two in her eyes.

A quiet sigh drew her attention to the starboard side of the ship. Her pirate stood, back to her, looking away from the beauty of the sunset, his head hung dejectedly. He'd foregone his great coat for only his shirtsleeves and his red vest, the color matching the flowers on the picnic blanket. She hesitated only for a moment before making her presence known.

"Hi."

His head swung up and around so fast, Emma was surprised he didn't get whiplash. She only caught a glimpse of the morose expression on his face before it was replaced by a smile that was a mix of pure happiness and relief.

"Swan," Killian breathed, quickly moving across the ship to her. "You're here." He stretched out his hand as if to embrace her, before rethinking it and dropping his arms to his sides. "I, uh, I wasn't sure if you were going to come," he said, his smile fading, making the worry lines etched on his forehead stand out prominently.

"Yeah, well, maybe I wanted you to sweat it out for just a little bit," Emma said, giving him a dry look.

Killian ducked his head, shooting a rueful smile to the deck. "I deserve that, I suppose," he admitted, scratching the back of his ear like she'd seen him do a hundred times when he was worried or nervous. His eyes fell on hers, the blue as striking as always in their solemnity and earnestness. He inched closer until he was only an arms length away. "You are here, though," he murmured, an optimistic note in his tone. "Does this mean I'm to be forgiven?"

"That depends," Emma told him. "Are you going to go around picking fights with every person in this town who says a word against me?"

Killian's eyes widened, his whole body jerking upright. "How—Who—?" he stuttered.

"Robin," she supplied. His face became like thunder, and he half looked ready to go run his hook through his mate. "Don't be mad, I wheedled it out of him. And it's a good thing I did or I may not have even come tonight."

Killian sighed, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. "I don't know what he told you, love, but—"

Emma shook her head, moving closer to him. "It doesn't matter," she said. "Look, it's...sweet that you think you need to defend my honor and all that, but you of all people should know that I don't need anyone fighting my battles for me."

"Aye, I know," he said quietly. He shook his head to himself. "I let my temper get the best of me, bloody fool that I am. I truly am sorry, love."

"I'm sorry, too," she returned, knowing it was the right thing to do when he looked up at her in surprise. "I was embarrassed and angry and I overreacted. I should have known better than to accuse you of being up to no good. You're not the same man you were when you first came to Storybrooke."

Killian smiled at her words, a smile which she reciprocated, and she slid her hand into his, squeezing gently as she turned her attention to the picnic setup on the deck below.

"Did you do all this by yourself?" she asked him. The sun had finally set, darkness falling around them. The candles burned brightly though, illuminating the romantic little scene.

"I may have had a little assistance from your father," he admitted, leading her down the steps and over the blanket. "But the idea was mine alone. Milady," he said, gesturing for her to sit. He helped her down before joining her.

"Were the flowers your idea, too?" she asked wryly.

He snorted in amusement. "David's actually," he said. "Am I to take it from your tone that you didn't like them?"

"Oh no, they were beautiful," she assured him. "I was just a little unprepared for my office to be turned into a greenhouse overnight."

Killian's cheeks took on a slight color. "I may have gone overboard," he confessed.

Emma smiled at him. "Maybe just a little bit," she teased, but reached over and gripped his hand. "Thank you," she said sincerely because the truth was, no one had ever bought her flowers and here was this man who had endeavored to win her heart and had done so in every way imaginable. She couldn't picture her life without him at this point and she didn't even want to try.

He gripped her hand back, eyes shining with happiness in the flickering candlelight. "Anything for you, darling," he said, kissing the back of her palm reverently.

He reluctantly let go to grab a bottle of red wine from inside the picnic basket. Pulling the cork out expertly with his teeth, he poured a generous amount of wine in each glass.

Emma raised her glass in the air and he mirrored her. "To making up," she said, and he echoed it as they clinked their glasses together.

They sipped their wine, enjoying the cool spring breeze that made the Jolly Roger rock gently in its mooring. It felt like a great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders now that the air between them was clear. She couldn't stop looking over at him, and he gazed right back, a smile lingering around his lips.

"So, does this mean I'm out of the proverbial 'doghouse', as your father is fond of calling it?" Killian asked playfully.

Emma laughed and took a second to teasingly contemplate, laying a finger on her chin. "Hmm, I guess so," she finally conceded.

"Good," Killian said, a hungry look in his eyes now, one that she was pretty sure had nothing to do with whatever food was in the picnic basket. He hastily set aside his glass, taking hers out of her hand and doing the same. "Because I have bloody missed you, love." He cupped the back of her head, drawing her face to his, and their lips met in a long, passionate kiss; tongues clashing, teeth clanging, noses smashing, until finally both pulled back, chests heaving as their lungs sought air.

"You know," Emma panted, gripping the collar of his shirtsleeves, a fiery need growing in her belly. "The next best thing to making up is the makeup sex."

Killian pushed his forehead against hers, sliding his hook up her back, sending shivers down her spine. "I'm afraid I'm new to this realm, Swan, you might have to explain this concept to me."

Emma breathed out a laugh. "I think I can _show_ you much better than I can tell you."

"Then, by all means, sweetheart…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo, sorry it's been so long since I updated this! It was my birthday and then I moved to a new apartment, yadda yadda yadda, and I'm just a lazy person in general. Thank you all so much for all your kudos and comments! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! A big thank you, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, to whoever voted for me for the CS Awards Favorite Fluff Multichapter! I was so floored to see I'd won! I am also all ears about any future vignettes for this fic. I've got a couple more in my head, but I'd love to see what you guys would like to see. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)


	6. the walk of shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 'morning after' fic, Emma has to clear up a misunderstanding between her and Hook about the phrase 'walk of shame.'

She was trapped.

She was trapped in the bed of a pirate, a pair of arms wound tightly around her, one leg wedged between hers, and said bloodthirsty pirate was currently snoring softly in her ear. Gently, so as not to wake him, she attempted to extricate herself, but try as she might, she could not break the iron grip he held her in. She huffed loudly, snapping her mouth shut when she realized how loud the noise had been in the silence of the captain’s quarters. She stilled, noticing with increasing alarm that his snoring had stopped. After a moment, she became convinced that he was still asleep, until, that is, his arms tightening around her bare torso, face falling into the crock of her neck. She tried not to shiver from the feel of his scruff as he pressed feather light kisses along her shoulder.

“Mmm, Swan,” he rumbled, his voice deep and hoarse with sleep. “G’morning, love.”

She bit her lip before shifting in his arms to face him. His sleepy smile gave her a warm feeling in her chest, and she couldn’t help but return it, dropping her eyes almost shyly, which was quite ridiculous seeing as how she’d been far from shy the prior evening.

She had snuck away from Belle and Gold’s wedding with the intent of finding him, and she would have been lying to herself if she hadn’t thought, even hoped, they might end up in bed together before the night was over. Their first time had been everything Emma had ever imagined, and, if she was still being honest with herself, she had imagined it plenty. Hook was a generous lover, always putting her needs before his, making her pleasure his number one priority, and she’d been almost overwhelmed by their connection: the desire and pure want between them, and the love, _the love_ , so tangible she almost felt like she could have reached out and touched it.

Hook chuckled at her shyness and tipped her chin up with his fingers so she would meet his eyes, those blue eyes that had gazed at her with such undeniable hunger as she had undressed before him last night.

“Hello,” he murmured, smoothing her tousled hair back from her face.

“Hi.”

Her pirate continued to stare at her, his hand falling to wrap around her back, tracing his fingers up and down her spine. His face fell noticeably, and her eyes were drawn down to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Something was clearly bothering him, and Emma eyed him in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

He hesitated, his expression almost pained. “I used to have dreams like this,” he finally said. “Waking up to you, here, naked and smiling in my arms after a night of lovemaking.”

“Those sound like some good dreams,” she responded cautiously.

He nodded, but the haunted look on his face remained. “Aye, they were,” he said. His arms tightened imperceptibly around her. “Until I would awaken to find myself alone and you lost to me forever.”

Her throat tightened at his words. She knew he hadn’t had an easy time of it during the year he’d been away from her, but he never liked to talk about it. Was he afraid this was a dream? Was he still afraid he would wake up alone again? Slowly, she eased herself up until they were eye level and gently cupped his cheek with her hand before pressing her lips firmly to his. His response was tentative at first and she gently coaxed his lips apart, deepening their kiss. He groaned at the touch of her tongue and sat up, pulling her up to sit astride him, gripping her hip in his hand.

She pulled away reluctantly before things could get too heated but kept her hands on the sides of his face. He opened his eyes and gazed at her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat and his intensity doesn’t scare her the way it used to. Instead, it made her feel cherished and needed and loved.

“Not a dream,” was all she said, and that hollow, lost expression on his face melted away, his lips curving up softly.

“Not a dream,” he agreed before pulling her face back to his.

They laid in his bed for the better part of the morning, alternating between making love - fast and hard and then slow and sensual, his body covering hers, their lips and hands endlessly touching and caressing - and just talking about everything - their year apart, their time in the Enchanted Forest sorting out Zelena’s mess, Henry and her family. They laughed easily in each other’s arms, Emma teasing him about his snoring, Hook retorting back that she was a sheets hog, which led to Emma jokingly pulling away all of the covers from him, leaving him completely exposed. A raised eyebrow was all it took for them to dive into another round of lovemaking.

Eventually, Emma noticed the sun pouring through the window. Clearly it was almost midday. People, namely her parents, would start wondering where she was. Lingering for one last moment, she pressed her lips to his once, twice, and then a third time before reluctantly pulling away, smiling at his feeble groans of protest.

“Time for the walk of shame," she joked, leaving the warmth of his bed and landing with wobbly legs on the floor.

As she fished around for her undergarments, she heard the bed covers rustle as he sat up. He didn't say anything, but she felt his eyes watch her as she slipped into her panties and bra.

It wasn't until she heard him chuckle harshly behind her that she realized something was wrong. "That ashamed of me, are you, Swan?" he asked with such self-deprecation and forced humor in his voice that she immediately froze in the middle of pulling on the dress she'd worn to the wedding yesterday.

Emma quickly shimmied on the dress before turning to him. "What?" He sat on the edge of the bed in a stony silence, blue eyes looking at her sullenly out of his pale face, no sign of his prior cheer. What the hell had just happened here? She backtracked over the past minute. Kiss, get up, walk of...Oh.

"Oh, no, no, Christ," she cursed, stumbling over her words. She closed the distance between them, stepping between his legs and laying her hands on his thighs. "That's not, it's not what you think. Walk of shame, it’s like a phrase in this realm,” she tried to explain, ducking his head to force his eyes to meet her. How could she forget that for all Captain Hook’s swagger and cockiness, Killian Jones had crippling insecurity issues? “It’s stupid, it just means I’m wearing the same clothes I was yesterday. People are going to put two and two together and assume I was with someone last night. It was a joke; granted, not a very good one.”

Hook didn’t look entirely convinced, so she took his hand and wrist in her hands. “Don’t you realize what you’ve done for me?” she asked him. “You helped save Henry, you came back and found us in New York, you literally went back and time and helped me make sure my parents got married.” Maybe it was her fault he was this unsure about her feelings for him. She’d never put into words how much he’d meant to her. “You’ve been... _a rock_ for me through everything. I don’t know if I could have done it without you.”

“You would have been fine,” he argued half-heartedly.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said, locking her eyes onto his. She gazed at him knowing that, without a doubt, she would go through all the abandonment and heartbreak of her life all over again so long as she ended up here with him. “I’m not ashamed of you,” she told him fiercely. “I _love_ you.”

It wasn’t the first time or second that she’d said those words to him, but they seemed to hold so much more weight now than they ever had.

He swallowed roughly before exhaling a shaky breath. “I will never tire of hearing you say that,” he said, a relieved and almost goofy smile blossoming over his face.

Emma smiled brightly in return. “Good,” she said, resting her forever against his, “Because I’m never going to get tired of telling you. And showing you,” she added, tilting her head slightly to draw him into a long, lingering kiss.

Hook hummed appreciatively when she pulled away, licking his lips in that obscene way that drove her crazy. “I certainly wouldn't mind you _showing_ me once more, darling.”

She stopped his hand from trailing further up under the bottom of her dress. “No can do, I’m afraid,” she said apologetically. “I promised Henry I’d meet him at Granny’s for lunch.”

“Ah,” he said, his eyes conveying his understanding. His arms encircled her waist, however, keeping her close. “And how’s the lad adjusting to having his memories returned to him?”

Emma looked down, fingers idly playing with the silver charms on his necklace. “About as well as can be expected,” she sighed. “He’s happy to be back with his family and back in Storybrooke, but he’s torn up over Neal, and I don’t know how to help him.”

He squeezed her side, and she peered up at him, reading the same grief in his eyes that she knew must have been reflected in hers. “Sometimes the only way to heal a wound is time,” he told her. “Henry’s a strong lad, though. I have no doubt that there’s no better remedy for him than being surrounded by his family and friends.”

She nodded against him, amazing once again by his ability to always say what she needed to hear. He was so good with Henry, too.

“You should come with me,” she said suddenly.

Hook’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Pardon, love?”

“To lunch,” she clarified. “With Henry. I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

He fidgeted nervously, head ducking down, pointer finger scratching along his scruff. “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he said.

She shook her head, entwining their fingers together. “You wouldn’t be,” she assured him. “Besides, Henry’s been dying to hear about our adventures in the Enchanted Forest and apparently, I’m just not as good a storyteller as ‘ _Killian_ ’ is.”

His answering grin had an edge of smugness to it. “Well, in that case, how can I refuse?”

She rolled her eyes and set about looking for her shoes. “Just keep the yearning looks to a minimum around Henry, okay?”

He gave her an affronted look as he pulled on his leather pants. “Yearning looks?” he echoed. “Captain Hook does not yearn.”

She snorted, remembering her own response to Regina’s words. “Captain Hook may not, but Killian Jones most certainly does,” she said, eyeing him playfully.

“Careful, lass, I may just make you walk the plank for such blasphemy.”

“Oh, I’m so scared.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a firm believer that we haven't seen the last of the Jolly Roger in Storybrooke, so let me have my little fantasy, lol. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think! :)


	7. the first date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry issues a challenge that Killian only too willingly accepts. Captain Swan with a dash of Captain Cobra and some Ruby at the end!
> 
> Does not actually contain the first date, more of just a prelude to it!

"So, when are you going to take my mom out on a date?"

Killian paused midway between taking his next sip of coffee, peering at the boy across the table with the expectant expression. His hand continued its circuit to his mouth, if only to give himself a moment to consider the lad's inquiry. Henry, he'd found, had been a handful without his memories; with them back, he was a force to be reckoned with. He had to test the waters carefully. 

He placed his mug back on the table. "A date," he mused aloud. "Hmm..."

The boy's answering grin was mischievous indeed. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"'Course, I do," Killian scoffed, unwilling to concede defeat. 

Henry smirked. "Come on, just admit it," he egged him on, stealing a fry off of his plate. "I swear, I won't make fun of you."

Killian sighed. "Fine, I do not know the meaning behind this particular vernacular," he admitted, narrowing his eyes as the lad's smile grew more pronounced. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Well, a date is like an outing people do when they're in a relationship," Henry explained. "You know, dinner, a movie, mini-golf-"

"Mini-golf?" Killian interrupted, his brow furrowing at this unfamiliar term. 

Henry scratched his head. "Uh, it's a game," he said. "I'll show you some other time. Anyway, all couples go on dates. That's why it's called dating."

Killian ran his finger along the rim of his mug. "Surely you know our relationship goes a bit beyond merely dating, lad," he said a little uneasily. He suddenly felt like a nervous suitor asking for permission to court a lady. 

Henry wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, yeah, I know, _true love_ and all that," he said, shrugging it off like it was nothing, and maybe being around the Charmings made him unimpressed by such things. "All I'm saying is a date every once and a while wouldn't hurt."

Killian rubbed his fingers over his chin, contemplating the lad's words. "You think your mother would be...agreeable to going on one of these dates?"

Henry nodded eagerly. "Oh yeah, definitely," he said. That mischievous look crept over his face again. "Back in New York, Walsh used to take her on a ton of dates."

Killian froze, his mind concocting all sorts of twisted images of Emma and her former paramour on various romantic outings around the city. It turned his stomach thinking about his love with that flea ridden simian monster, and his resolve strengthened. He was going to take Emma on a date so perfect and wonderful, a date so romantic and thoughtful, that she would forget she'd ever been on any others. 

Killian smiled, propping his elbows on the table and leaning forward. "I'm sure I can do much better than some flying monkey," he said confidently. 

Henry matched his pose. "Let's see it then," he challenged. The boy nodded to the door of Granny's. "There she is now. Why don't you ask her out?"

There was a tinkling of bells and Killian turned around, perhaps too eagerly, but he didn't care. There she was, his love, his Swan, crossing the threshold of the diner, her eyes almost immediately finding his, causing his heart to stutter in his chest. 

"Hey," she said, a bit breathlessly as she came over to them. Her cheeks were a little flushed from the cold, and her green eyes sparkled happily, and gods above, she was the most beautiful creature in all the realms. 

"Evening, love," he greeted, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss her soundly. Their relationship was still fairly new, however, and Emma liked to keep things private. In her own words, no PDA, which she then had to explain meant public display of affection. "Have a good day?"

"Can't complain," she said, shrugging off her coat and hanging it on the coat rack. "No magic portals or evil witches to deal with. Scoot over, kid."

"I'm actually on my way out," Henry told her, grabbing his backpack and sliding out of the booth. "Homework to do, video games to play, you know, that sorta thing."

"Uh, okay," Emma said, her brow furrowing adorably as Henry hugged her goodbye. "I'll see you back at home, then?"

"Yup!" Henry chirped. He clapped his hand on Killian's shoulder. "Bye, Captain. Don't chicken out."

The last part Henry whispered in his ear before skipping away, and both Killian and Emma watched him go, Killian shaking his head in amusement. 

"Some lad you've got there, Swan," he said as she slid across from him. 

"What was that all about?" she asked, stealing a fry from his plate. Like mother, like son, apparently. Underneath the table, one of her feet came up to caress his shin, and he practically itched with the need to touch her. Luckily, hand-holding was acceptable in public to his Swan, so he was able to reach across the table and grasp her unoccupied hand in his. She smiled at him and he grinned back. 

"Henry has brought something very important to my attention," he told her. "According to this realm's courtship rituals, I've been neglecting you terribly, Swan."

"What?" Emma blurted out, looking at him like he was crazy. "Killian..."

"No, love, it's a mistake I intend to rectify immediately," he said, lifting her hand to his lips. "Will you do me the great honor of accompanying me to dinner tomorrow evening?"

Her brow furrowed even more as she contemplated his question, before her expression cleared. "Are you asking me out on a date?" she asked, her expression both surprised and pleased. 

"Aye," he confirmed, raising an eyebrow at her. "So, how about it, Swan?"

She studied him, her smile fading for a moment, fear taking the place of happiness in her eyes. It was times like these when he cursed every single person before him who had put that look into her eyes. Killian could do nothing more but tighten his grip on her hand, an assurance that he wasn't going anywhere, that his only place was by his side for as long as she wanted him there, which was hopefully forever. 

She swallowed harshly, before the light came back into her eyes and she looked almost shyly at him. "I would love to have dinner with you, Killian," she said softly, and his heart soared. 

"It's a date, then," he said, unable to keep the grin off of his face. 

"It's a date," Emma echoed, smiling right back. Her expression was full of wonder as she cocked her adorably. "Our first date."

"The first of many, I hope."

She nodded, a sudden wetness to her bright eyes that had him squeezing her hand again. "Me, too."

Emma left a little while later, and Killian stared at the door to Granny's long after her golden hair was out of sight. That warm feeling he got in his chest whenever she was around stayed with him now even after she was gone. 

"I couldn't help but overhear," a voice came from above him, and he looked up to see Ruby standing over his table. She slid across from him and shrugged. "Wolf hearing and everything. Are you and Emma going out on a date?"

Killian sighed, scratching at his ear. "You heard correctly," he told her, looking at her expectantly.

She smiled. "That's great!" she said brightly. "I'm so happy for you two." 

"Thank you," he said, with a grateful nod of his head. He had a feeling not everyone in town would be as elated about their relationship. 

"Just one little thing, though," Ruby said, biting her lip as she looked him up and down. "You're not going to wear that, are you?"

Killian peered down at himself, not quite sure what she was referring to. He had his normal leathers on, his charms, his rings, etc. "What's wrong with this?" he asked her. 

She sighed. "Hook, we're not living in the Enchanted Forest anymore," she explained patiently. "Who knows if we'll ever go back there again. Don't you think it's time you try and acclimate yourself to this land's style of dress?"

He stared at her. The thought had never really occurred to him, but the more he turned it over in his mind, the more sense it made. What better way for him to prove to Emma that he intended to make Storybrooke his home, than for him to adopt this realm's manner of dress? 

There was only one problem, though. "This is all I have," he confessed, looking down at his leathers and his hook. This was all he'd ever needed. Once he'd left the Jolly Roger, however, he'd only been able to take the clothes on his back and whatever he'd been able to fit into his satchel. "And I have not the currency of this realm."

Ruby waved that away. "I'll take you shopping, and we can work out something," she said. "We're in need of a bartender a couple nights a week. Maybe you can pay me back that way."

"This is all very kind of you," he observed, hoping she wasn't offended by his uncertainty.

But the she-wolf just smiled sadly. "I was supposed to be Emma's godmother," she told him. "Did you know that?" When he shook his head, she continued, "I never got to spoil her the way I'd planned. Emma doesn't open up to a lot of people, but she does to you, and that means something. She's had a lot of shitty things happen to her in her life, and if you're going to be good to her like I think you will be, I want to help in any way that I can."

"Than I gladly accept your help, milady," he said with a smile. 

"Good," Ruby replied, sliding out of the booth. "Meet me here tomorrow morning at 11, and we'll do a little shopping." He nodded his affirmation and she turned to go back to her duties. Before she left, however, she said, "Oh, and _Prince Charles_ ," he started at the name, "If you hurt her, I'll make what I did to those black knights in Regina's castle look like child's play compared to what I'll do to you."

She smiled at him sweetly, before wiggling her fingers goodbye to him. Killian slouched in his seat, running his hand through his hair.

 _Bloody hell,_ what was he getting himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever since I've updated this, but luckily after that spoiler last night, I got a little inspiration to finish this chapter which has actually been half written for months! Let me know what you think! I'm so excited that our babies are going on a real date!! :)


	8. the first date (cont'd)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nervous Hook picks up Emma at the loft for their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something. I couldn't help myself with those promo pics for Sunday's episode!! This can be a stand alone but is also compliant with the last chapter. 
> 
> Spoilers for 4x04 so read at your own risk!!

He's nervous. Bloody terrified if he's being completely honest with himself. His palms, both of them ( _both of them,_ it's ridiculous, he doesn't know what the hell he'd been thinking), are sweating, and he expects the single rose he holds to slip from his grasp any second. Why had he thought this would be a good idea? He feels like he's reverted back to that green lieutenant he'd been centuries ago, nervous at the thought of just holding a girl's hand. 

He brushes off imaginary lint from his new vest as he reaches the landing to the Charmings' apartment. The door in front of him seems incredibly daunting, but he steels himself with a deep breath, tucks his left arm behind his back, and issues three short knocks. There's a quieting of the voices inside and then the sound of footsteps towards the door.

When the door swings open, Killian feels as though he's had the wind knocked out of him. He's unable to do much more than stare at the goddess in front of him. Her golden hair pulled up high in a fetching ponytail and her slender form clad enticingly in a silky, light-colored dress, cut low in a way that enhances her bosom. Emma is a _vision_ , completely without peer, and he doesn't even feel worthy enough to be sharing the same air with her. 

Before he's allowed to dwell on that thought, she smiles at him, nervous, but excited at the same time, and he can't help but grin back. Her smiles, becoming less rarer every day, are infectious. 

"Hi," she says, eyes raking over him and taking in his new clothes. "Did a little shopping, I see."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "A long overdue wardrobe change," he tells her, before focusing on more important matters. "You look radiant, love."

She blushes, and he steps over the threshold and closer to her. _Moment of truth,_ he thinks as he brings his arm out from behind his back. His hand is shaking a bit as he proffers the rose to her. "For you."

She does a double take at his hand. "Killian, what-?"

"It's not permanent," he tells her, not wanting to go into the sordid details of how he got his hand back. "Just something special for tonight."

She seems to take his poor explanation in stride luckily, and takes the rose with a smile. "So, what do I call you now, Captain Hand?"

He's grinning again, he can't help it. She makes him feel so light-hearted. "You can call me whatever you'd like, darling."

"Ahem."

The harsh clearing of a throat nearby alerts Killian to the fact that they're not alone. Quite the opposite, as both Emma's parents and Elsa happen to be observing them from across the room. Emma and Killian's eyes dart over to David, who, with his arms crossed over his chest and his furrowed brow, seems the only unhappy person in the room.

He pins Killian with a stern look. "Have her home by midnight," his mate says.

Beside him, Emma lets out an exasperated sigh. "Seriously, Dad?" she asks, more amused than annoyed he thinks. "Don't you think I'm a bit old for a curfew?" 

"No," he replies stubbornly, prompting an admonishing "David" from his wife. "Fine, but no funny business, all right?" he says, looking every bit the overprotective father. "Keep your hand,  _hands_ ," he corrects, "To yourself, _mate_."

Killian smiles thinly. "Of course."

Eager to be on their way now, Emma starts ushering him to the door. "Well, we have a reservation to make, so-"

"Oh, wait, I want to get a picture before you go!" Mary Margaret bursts out, rushing over with a large camera in her hand. She pushes the two of them together, much to David's displeasure. 

Killian's hand finds a resting place on her waist, and the silky material is soft to the touch. He imagines her skin would be even softer under his hand and a shiver runs down his spine.

Emma looks up a him, an apologetic smile on her face. "Sorry about this," she whispers, and the device in her mother's hand issues a bright flash. "I didn't realize how embarrassing they would be."

Another flash comes, nearly blinding him, but he returns her smile. "They're simply making up for lost time, love," he tells her. "They're allowed to be a little overzealous."

He squeezes her hip a little bit, reveling in his ability to do so, and her answering smile is brighter than any camera flash. 

"Alright one more, look at me this time," Mary Margaret says, and Emma turns to face her, but Killian can't look away. He's sure he looks like a bloody, lovestruck fool, but he's way past the point of caring. 

The flash goes off once again, and Mary Margaret lowers the camera from her face. "Good enough, I guess," she shrugs. She rushes over to Emma and enfolds her in her arms. When she pulls away, there are tears in her eyes. "Stupid hormones," she says, waving away Emma's concern and stepping in to her prince's embrace. 

Elsa, who has remained a silent observer for the most part, comes over and takes Emma's hand. "Have fun," she tells them. 

"We will," Emma says. "Thanks for helping me get ready."

"Anytime," the queen says with a fond smile. "Now go, you're going to be late."

"Right," Emma replies, some of the nervousness seeming to return. Killian, ever the gentleman, helps her into her jacket, and then, with a couple quick goodbyes and a playful, "Don't wait up" from Emma to her parents, they're outside on the landing, finally alone. 

They're facing each other, and Emma's fingers come up to play with the charms of his necklace. "You know, you didn't have to do all this," she tells him, eyes fixed below his neck. "The clothes; the hand, especially."

Killian tips her chin up with said hand. "I know I didn't have to," he tells her, eyes locking on to hers. "I _wanted_ to. Mostly because I wanted to do _this_."

He slides his hand along her jawline and up to cup her cheek, bringing his other one up to do the same. He moves slowly, deliberately, committing every touch and sensation to memory. If this is the one and only time he'll have both of his hands, he wants to make the most of it. She watches him, until he moves to close the distance between them, her eyes falling shut at the touch of his lips to hers. 

His mouth moves unhurried against hers as he slides his hands down over her shoulders, along her sides, to rest on her hips, pulling her closer. She locks her arms around his back, one hand going into his hair, and they are lost in each other, lost in this quiet moment together, and it's more than he'd even dared to dream. 

The scrape of a chair against the floor inside her parents' loft breaks them apart. They have matching smiles on their faces as they make their way down the stairs and out onto the streets of Storybrooke. After a moment's hesitation, Killian takes her hand in his, entwining their fingers. Emma doesn't even bat an eye, leading him down the street towards their destination. 

"You lied to my dad, you know," she says, shooting him a playful look, "About keeping your hands to yourself?"

Killian grins. "Ah, well, don't let the clothes fool you, love," he tells her. "I'm still a pirate, after all. And what your father doesn't know, won't hurt him."

They hold hands the entire way to the restaurant, only letting go once they're seated at their table. And even though the night ends in disaster, with that bloody idiot Will Scarlet turning up, the memory of the feeling of her hand in his stays close to his heart. 


	9. the chaperones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's really hard to make out with your pirate boyfriend when your parents are downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of these skirt the line of canon, so we'll say this one is set right before the start of 4B.

It’s not something she ever thought she would have to get use to; having a nice, home cooked dinner with her parents and her boyfriend. It was nice, but never something she'd have thought her future would hold. Neither was sneaking up to her room and making out with said boyfriend on her bed while her parents were distracted by her little brother. If Killian had any objections, he was certainly keep them to himself as she pressed him deeper into her mattress, grinding her hips down into his like a horny teenager.

She _really_ needed to get her own place.

“What’re you two doing up there?” her father’s voice suddenly floated up to them, the effect like a bucket of cold water as they tore themselves away from each other.

Emma exchanged a wide eyed look with Killian. “Uh, watching Netflix!” she hastily called down to them, before becoming momentarily distracted by the color flooding her pirate’s cheeks and interesting enough the tips of his ears. Was her _dashing rapscallion_ embarrassed? She grinned down at him, and he responded in kind, that happy, sheepish smile that she adored before it transformed into some more mischievous.

“Perhaps you’d like to join us, Dave?” he called down, and Emma nudged him in the ribs because it was just the sort of think her dad might do if offered.

“Perhaps I would!” was the reply, and Emma dropped her forehead down to Killian’s chest, letting out a childish groan.

“David, leave them alone,” she thankfully heard her mother whisper, before she raised her voice,”You two need anything? Some hot chocolate? Popcorn?”

Emma sighed, lifting her head up to respond. “No, thanks, Mom!” she said, catching a glimpse of the amusement on Killian’s face. “We’re fine!”

“Okay!” Mary Margaret said brightly, and Emma heard them retreat to the other side of the loft, her mother no doubt dragging her father along.

The mood effectively ruined, Emma slipped off Killian and landed on her side next to him, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Killian grinned at her, reaching out and brushing some of her hair back at of her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “God, they’re worse than a pair of chaperones at a school dance.”

He gave her a confused look. “School dance?”

“Yeah, it’s like a ball,” she tried to explain in terms he would understand. “Like a smaller scale ball thrown at a school. Music, dresses, and the chaperones go around making sure no one’s dancing too closely or behaving _inappropriately_.” As she said it, she curled her leg around Killian’s.

“Ah, I see,” Killian said, his expression clearing. “Honestly, I can’t blame your father for being a tad overprotective. Were we back in the Enchanted Forest, any suitor of yours would be put through much worse.”

“Oh, yeah?” Emma asked. She raised an eyebrow, intrigued to know more of the life she would have lived if things had been different. “Like what?”

"Well, you certainly would have had a chaperone or two most likely,” he explained. “The most a suitor would have been able to do would be kiss your hand, perhaps walk with you arm and arm. You’d never, ever be allowed alone with him, ‘twould be _improper_.” He booped her on the nose for emphasis, his eyes shining with amusement before filling with something darker. “The only time you’d have been permitted this close to him,” he murmured, hitching her leg up so that it was wrapped around his hip, “Would be your wedding night.”

Her breath hitched at the movement, and they were suddenly close enough that her breasts pressed into his chest every time she breathed.

“Do you think I would have been the type of princess to follow the rules?” she asked, brushing her lips against his teasingly. His quiet groan was a small victory. “You never know, maybe I would have been the type of princess to sneak out of the castle, go down to the docks, and find myself a pirate to--”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence as his lips slanted over hers, eliciting a gasp from her that prompted him to plunder her mouth with his tongue. Emma fisted one hand in his hair, while the other wrapped around his back, dragging him on top of her. She lost herself in the feel of his lips against hers until the only two things she was aware of were his body and the solid mattress underneath her.

His hand was everywhere, fingers clutched in her hair, caressing her cheek, gripping her shoulder, her hip, sliding up her thigh. His lips were unyielding and yet impossibly soft against hers. She never wanted him to stop.

Which was why she let out the most frustrated noise when her father slammed the cupboard closed downstairs, the sound jarring them apart.

“Oops, sorry!” he called, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

Killian looked as wrecked as she felt, all swollen lips and mussed up hair, but he gave her a half smile as he lifted himself off of her. “That appears to be the cue for me to take my leave,” he said good-naturedly, sitting up and sliding to the foot of the bed to put his boots back on.

“Hmph,” Emma grunted, half ready to go downstairs and give David a piece of her mind. She was a grown woman for Christ’s sake! If she wanted to make out with her boyfriend, she could do it _whenever_ and _wherever_ she damn well pleased. “I’ve gotta start looking at apartments.”

Killian took her hand as she came to sit next to him. “Don’t you think there’s a reason you haven’t started looking yet, Swan?”

“What?” she asked, his words tripping some sort of alarm in her head. “If you mean about us--”

“No, I mean about your parents, love,” he corrected her gently. “It’s only understandable that being torn away from them so many times and finally being able to be together, you would want to be as close as possible to them. Perhaps, you’re not _ready_ to move out yet.”

She blinked at him. How did he always know what was going on in her head before she realized it? “I guess I never thought of it that way,” she told him after a moment.

He smiled and stood, bringing her up with him. “Like I said long ago, love, you’re a bit of an open book,” he said. “Might I just say, until you _are_ ready to leave, perhaps you’d like to join me over at Granny’s once in a while. No chaperones there.”

Emma laughed. “I don’t know about that,” she said wryly. “Ruby and Granny have werewolf hearing, which might actually be worse.”

His answering smirk did terrible things to her. “I suppose you’ll just have to be... _quiet_ ,” he said, lifting her hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of her palm, his eyes dark with promise. He straightened up and, in seconds, was her courtly suitor again. “See you in the morning, Swan?”

“Absolutely,” she said, and he squeezed her hand and made to leave but she tugged him back. “Wait,” she said, stretching up to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. She smiled at him as they both pulled back. “Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight, love,” he replied, his own smile etched on his face as he headed down the stairs.

She blew out a deep breath and flopped back onto her bed, listening to him reluctantly accepting leftovers from her mother before he issued a farewell to them both, the door shutting behind him. Emma curled up against her floral sheets, in her parents’ home, butterflies in her stomach, and suddenly felt more like a teenager than she ever had when she’d actually been one.


	10. the big spoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a very long day for Emma and Killian. Set post 5x02.

**the big spoon**

“And these will be your chambers, milady.”

Killian and Emma stepped inside the room, elaborate tapestries covering the stone walls, a sizeable four poster bed off to one side across from a large fireplace, flames dancing merrily behind the grate.

“His Highness King Arthur hopes you will find them satisfactory,” the maid said, clasping her hands at her waist.

Emma said nothing, her face drawn, dark circles under her eyes as she glanced around with disinterest. The maid shifted uneasily, and Killian chose that moment to step in.

“I’m sure she’ll find them more than adequate,” he assured her, a tight smile on his face. “And my quarters are?”

“Down the corridor, third door on the left, Captain,” she supplied, still glancing at Emma warily. “I can show you the way if you would like?”

Killian could tell she was more than anxious to be away. “That won’t be necessary,” he said. “Thank you.”

The girl bobbed her head to them both before turning on her heel and fleeing the way they’d come. Killian shut the door behind her, exhaling deeply, letting the trials of the day seep out of him. He turned to find Emma glaring off into the far corner of the room.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked, crossing over to her side.

Her head swung in his direction like she’d forgotten he was there, but her glare softened as her eyes met his.

“It’s been a long day,” she said simply, and Killian didn’t fail to notice that she hadn’t answered his question. He would let it slide for now, but she would have to talk to him at some point.

“Aye,” he agreed. Her words were a vast understatement. “All the more reason to turn in for a good night’s sleep.”

Killian didn’t know what he’d said wrong, but her expression dropped completely, her eyes landing on the bed with a certain sense of misery.

She swallowed tremulously. “Of course,” she said, before turning her back to him, sweeping her golden mane over her shoulder. “Help me out of this thing, would you?”

Killian’s eyes widened at the prospect in front of him, and glanced around guiltily as if any second her father or mother might walk in on them. At his hesitation, Emma peered back at him, her lips twisting into a genuine smile, one of the treasured few he’d seen from her that day.

“Are you seriously blushing?” she asked, and while it was at his expense, he was glad to see some color return to her face in her glee. “Some pillaging pirate you are.”

“Ha, very funny, Swan,” he said, rolling his eyes. He moved closer and began undoing the long row of buttons down the back of her white gown. “As I once told you, I am a gentleman first and foremost.”

“Hmmm, didn’t seem that way last week on the Jolly,” she quipped, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Well,” he said, shooting her pointed look, “I defy any man, pirate or otherwise, to try and resist you, love.”

She emitted a tiny noise of amused satisfaction before facing forward again. It took him a while to undo all of the buttons with his one hand, but his Swan was patient and stood still until the dress grew slack at her shoulders and she was able to pull her arms out of the long sleeves and step out of it. She picked it up from where it had pooled on the floor and hung it over a nearby chair.

Killian’s breath caught in his throat when she came back to him. The corset she was wearing pushed her breasts up most alluringly and the quirk of her eyebrow and curve of her lips were no less as tempting.

He cleared his throat and gestured with his hook to her bodice. “May I?”

She nodded, not taking her eyes off of his, and he set to work carefully, both hand and hook working in tandem, loosening the laces until the corset came apart and he gently dropped it off to the side. All she wore underneath was a flimsy gown that left little to the imagination, but Killian focused his eyes on Emma’s face, bringing up his hand to cup her cheek.

He caved in to his need for her and leaned down to capture her lips with his in an unhurried kiss, though no less lingering than the one she’d planted on him earlier. She let him take control, moving her lips languishly in time with his until they both pulled back, resting their foreheads against each other.

“Perhaps I should retire to my own chamber now,” Killian suggested, though not without some reluctance. He was loathe to be apart from her, not when he could still feel the desperation pumping through his blood when he thought he’d never seen her again after she had disappeared from Storybrooke.

Emma placed her hand on his cheek hastily. “Stay,” she pleased, her eyes filling with such despair, his heart ached. “Please.”

Killian nodded. He could deny her nothing, afterall. “As you wish, love.”

Her shoulders lost the tension they’d previously been holding, and she dropped her hand. He pushed his coat from his shoulders as she began working on the buttons to his vest, and he threw both items onto the same chair as Emma’s dress. She knelt to help him with his boots, tossing them to the side and stood back up. He unbuckled his trousers since he didn’t want to test his willpower by having Emma’s hands in that vicinity, and by the time he’d slung them over with the rest of their clothes, Emma had blown out all the candles and slid under the covers of the bed.

He followed after her and, once he’d discarded his hook on the bedside table, crawled onto the side she had her back to. He shuffled over to her and hesitated only for a moment before curling his body behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist protectively. She relaxed into him as she had done time and time before and moved in closer so that every point of their bodies was aligned from top to bottom.

“You love being the big spoon,” Emma said, amusement coloring her voice. The slight trembling of her body suggested something underlying that, but he chose to indulge her, knowing she would reveal what was truly bothering her when she was ready.

“Big spoon?” he repeated, unfamiliar with the phrase and its context.

“You know, when we’re lying together like this, it’s called spooning,” she explained quietly. “You’re always on the outside, my back to your chest. That makes you the big spoon and me the little spoon.”

Killian’s brow furrowed, trying to gauge her reaction in the flickering firelight. “Would you like to be the big spoon?” he asked, beginning to draw away.

“No,” she said instantly, pulling him back so he was wrapped even more tightly around her. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I like being the little spoon.”

She paused, but Killian remained silent, knowing there was more to it.

Emma continued in the tiny voice she used when she felt she was revealing too much. “When you have your your arms wrapped around me like this, I feel safe, like you’d never let anything happen to me.”

Her words both simultaneously warmed his heart and smashed it to pieces. To know that his embrace gave her that, made her feel safe in a way she’d most likely never felt in her life was a wonderful feeling but he ached for the trials this amazing woman had suffered through.

“Just so, love,” he murmured, entwining their hands over her stomach. She was still trembling, her body shaking slightly in his arms. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong, Emma?”

She bit out a humorless laugh. “Besides the obvious?” she asked. He felt her swallow, hesitating, but Killian Jones was a patient man, especially when it came to Emma Swan. “I’m just so tired.”

“Then sleep, Swan,” he urged her. “I’ve got you.”

“That’s just it,” Emma told him, her voice breaking with the same despair he had seen earlier in her eyes. “I _can’t_. I can’t sleep. Dark Ones don’t need sleep. I tried all last night, but...”

She trailed off, shaking her head. _Oh, Swan_ , Killian thought sorrowfully.

“You might not be able to sleep, but you can rest,” he insisted after a moment. “And if my being the ‘big spoon’ helps you feel safe, than I’ll simply hold you like this in my arms until morning.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair and she responded by drawing his hand up to her lips, kissing the back of it. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice full of gratitude.

“We will get the darkness out of you, Swan,” he told her, hoping his confidence gave her some comfort. “I’ll do whatever it takes, you can be sure of that.”

He could feel her holding back whatever was on the tip of her tongue, but all she said was, “I know.”

Killian knew then and there that he had to do something to make her believe their quest would succeed. She needed something to look forward to on the other side of this whole mess, and he thought he had just the thing. He would need a little help from her lad though, and he thought he remembered seeing a few things back at Granny’s that would lend itself to his task.

“I can feel you thinking back there,” Emma murmured. “Non-Dark Ones need their sleep, Killian.”

“Aye,” he said. He pressed a few kisses to her shoulder where her nightgown had slid off. “G’night, love.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“If you are there, I can guarantee you they will be.”


	11. the do over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS AHOY. Anyway, I’M MAD AF, and I heard there was some kind of romantic scene shot on the JR coming up, and I can only hope that we get the kind of proposal these two deserve, so without further ado, THE DO OVER:

**the do over**

“Want to tell me what’s going on, yet?”

Killian smiled as Emma nudged her hip with his, an expectant expression on her beautiful face. Her hand felt reassuringly warm in his as they walked down the docks together towards the Jolly Roger. His nerves were getting the better of him at the moment, but his thumb absentmindedly caressed the ring on Emma’s finger, and it gave him the boost of confidence he needed.

“I know you don’t enjoy surprises, Swan,” he said, “But it’s my hope that you’ll like this one.”

Emma smiled in return, squeezing his hand. “I’m sure, I will.”

Once they reached the Jolly, he gestured gallantly up the gangplank. “After you, m’lady. Captain’s quarters, if you please.”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly before climbing aboard his ship, and he followed after her, watching with pride as she navigated the deck with ease. At the top of the hatch leading to his quarters, she shot him a playfully suspicious look before descending down the steps. He knew the exact moment she found her surprise, her soft gasp echoing off the sails, and Killian hurried down after her.

The room was lit with tiny candles, illuminating the table where a three course dinner was set, complete with a bottle of champagne. Light instrumental music wafted through the air from a small portable device that Henry had helped him set up earlier that day.

“Killian, what is this?” Emma asked, turning to him with wonder, but also uncertainty. “If this is about my grandfather, you know I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I know, Swan,” Killian said, stepping closer to her and taking her hand in his. “And you’ll never know how truly grateful I am to have that forgiveness, but this isn’t about that. At least, not completely.”

He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled to steady himself. When he opened them, he dropped down to his knee and looked up at her. Emma’s eyes widened, but Killian spoke before she had a chance to.

“Emma, when I proposed to you, I did so with a heavy heart, weighed down by my secret,” Killian told her, remembering how conflicted he’d felt. He’d been unable to come clean then, loathe to take away her happiness. “But now, I wish to give you the proposal you deserve. No walls. No secrets. Just you and me.”

Emma’s confusion molded into one of understanding, and she smiled softly at her words being repeated back to her.

“There are no words to describe how much I love you,” Killian whispered, looking up into her eyes. In the candlelight, they took on a distinct sheen as he spoke. “Only know that I love you more today than I did yesterday, and that I shall love you more still tomorrow.”

“You helped me find a part of myself that I thought had been lost forever,” he continued, mesmerized by the love in her eyes. “You’ve given me a home, something I’ve never had before, as well as made me a part of your family. There’s nothing I want more in this life than to spend the rest of my days by your side.”

Tears were falling down her cheeks now, and even Killian found his eyes blurring. “Emma Swan, will you marry me?”

Her response was immediate as she nodded fervently. “Yes, yes, I will.”

Hearing the words the second time around was much sweeter than the first, and Killian let the joy he’d been holding back flow through him, smiling uncontrollably as he took her hand to kiss her ring before leaping up and taking her into his arms. Their kiss was wet and salty with both of their tears, but they laughed merrily, arms locked around each other, and Killian knew himself to be the happiest man in all the realms.

“I love you,” Emma sighed into his ear. “Thank you.”

He pressed his lips to hers again in response before pulling away. Reaching behind her, he grabbed the bottle of champagne that had been chilling. “Can I tempt you with a glass, love?”

“What, no rum?” she asked playfully.

“I’m engaged to a princess now,” he quipped, arching an eyebrow at her. “That calls for something a little more sophisticated.”

Emma giggled happily, and Killian grinned, uncorking the bottle with his thumb. He poured them both a glass, handing one to her.

She raised hers in the air. “To our future,” she said firmly.

The threat of Gideon’s dark mission succeeding hung over them for a moment, but Killian nodded. “Our future,” he echoed, clinking her glass with his.

Whatever happened, they would face it together, and Killian knew they would overcome it, as they had done time and time again.


End file.
